Someone found my site using this string – “no no bad fish mouth no no”

No comment.

I spent most of my afternoon pandering to K.’s customers. I had no problem with this, as pandering to K.’s customers kinda means pandering to K.. We talked a little today, as he was in the office. I was honestly delighted to see the smile that broke out on his face when he came over to talk to me this morning to check on the status of a project I was working on for him. It’s nice for someone to be happy to see me.

Pretty told me today that I need to stop comparing myself to T.. I don’t do it consciously. In fact, I work extremely, extremely hard not to compare myself to her. I think sometimes I work backwards, being detrimental to myself in order to differentiate myself from her, just to ensure that no one can say, “Blue’s doing that because T. did/would/said she should.” Stupid, perhaps, but the way I work.

I made an offhand comment to Pretty today along the lines that, if I thought about my interactions today with K. in terms of Random Guy’s interactions with T., I’d have told her that he was flirting with her. Flat-out. So why, when it happens to me, do I presume the guy is just being nice? I don’t know. Pretty said I need to stop looking at myself as a second-class citizen. I don’t think it’s that so much as I honestly think the reality is different for T. versus other women. Meh. I could be wrong.

I emailed K. at FB tonight to comment on another item I was working on for him. As it involves directly flouting a request that the Jackass made, I wanted him to know what I was doing. He doesn’t know the history between Jackass and me, but I was warning him that I was going around Jackass, because he should know that much, at least. And I don’t want to do it on the Hell network, because, well, that’s just asinine, now isn’t it? “Jackass told me not to do this, and I’m doing it anyway.” Uh huh. Anyway, he just replied, politely. So I’ve “opened” the FB communication channel, and now I’m leaving it alone.

And on my way home, I checked my email on my phone (yes, perhaps a BlackBerry is a good idea. Hmm.) and there was an email from OM. I just sat in my car at the red light and smirked. T. told me ages and ages ago that she saw me with him in the winter. This was after our first encounter late last Fall. He came sniffing back around in February or so and I politely told him I wasn’t interested. February was winter, now wasn’t it? And now, again? Today? On the day of the first snowfall of the year? I know T. has magical abilities and I firmly believe that her mother is a witch, but every now and then, her predictions come freakishly true, and I regain faith that I will find that nicely-dressed man that she sees in my future… the one with the nice scarf and the good jacket… lol.

Oh, what did I do? I responded, naturally. Politely, distantly, and clearly indicating I wasn’t interested. He picked up on one subtle nuance in my email that was … incorrect for lack of a better word, as I’d half-expected him to. I told him I wasn’t surprised that he’d commented on that one turn of phrase. He replied that he hated being predictable. I haven’t responded. Short of providing an ego boost, I’m not sure what to do with OM. Honestly, I think he’s a good conversationalist and I could grow as a person through knowing him, but I’m simply not interested in returning to that lifestyle. I am so proud of what I’ve achieved in the past year. Everything has fallen into place. I’m astounded, almost waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Milificent to come and take away my once upon a dream…

Sis is coming into town on Friday, and she’s arranged a get-together with some of my cousins, her friend LM, and me. I’m looking forward to it on one hand, and not looking forward to it on the other. Bars are not my scene. My gregarious, potentially-hammered sister and her friend may not be my scene on a Friday night. But I can hear the voice in the back of my head telling me I should go anyway, and if I don’t enjoy it, I can always leave. Which is true. So… off to see the wizard, I suppose.